January 29, 2010

Somewhere, sometime, I found and printed a recipe online for a pumpkin-cranberry coffeecake. I can't tell from the printout where I found it, and Googling has not brought me back to the original source. So, whoever you are that posted this old-fashioned recipe, thank you--wish I could give you credit.

Well...you remember I'm not fond of baking. Too precise. Too many ways to muck something up. In this case, I got all daring and crazy and decided that, even though the recipe called for 1 cup of canned pumpkin, I'd use the whole can, which is more like 2 cups, because what was I going to do with leftover pumpkin? Not much, especially in that small amount. I reasoned that it might take longer to bake. But, when the appointed time was up, the required toothpick check came out without a trace of batter, so out of the oven it came.

After the required 10-minute wait, I flipped it onto a cake stand.

Sprinkled with powdered sugar, doesn't it look pretty? But when I sliced into it, the inside was slushy. Now, I poked that damn thing with toothpicks several times, and not a drop of slush came up with the pick. I was so disappointed. But the kids and DH tried it and proclaimed it yummy, as did Teen 2's friends who happened to be visiting at the time.

It wasn't until I started typing up the recipe to copy here that I realized I may have forgotten one little thing: the recipe calls for baking soda. Which I neglected to add. Which could, of course, have affected the baking as well as the additional pumpkin.

Sigh.

Also? It calls for 2 cups sugar, which I gave it (with raised eyebrows), but seriously? I would imagine you could cut that back. Canned pumpkin is plenty sweet without a bunch of sugar too.

So, I'll try it again, with the baking soda this time, but less sugar, and maybe more baking time.

January 22, 2010

For a pasta sauce, it doesn't come much simpler than this. Canned whole tomatoes. Half an onion. Five tablespoons of butter. Dump them in a pot.

Bring it to a simmer and let it gently bubble for 45 minutes, stirring occasionally. Then--and this is where it started to get weird for me--you take the onion out. That half an onion? Literally, half an onion, in a chunk, not chopped. But at the end, you throw it away.

I saw this recipe earlier this week at Smitten Kitten. She notes how many other bloggers have raved and raved about this, and she loved it too. I thought it sounded divine--tomatoes, onion, butter. Really! What more could I possibly want?

Turns out I could want a lot more. Such as: onion left in the sauce, garlic, mushrooms, peppers, oregano...yeah, I could want a lot.

Not that it wasn't good. It was. Sort of. Let's put it this way: Teen 2 loved it. Teen 1 ate about two bites and then opted for cereal. DH and I both finished our plates, but agreed that it wasn't anything special. Sorry, Teen 2--this isn't likely to go into the regular rotation, even if it is super easy.

But I give it to you anyway, because clearly there are a lot of people out there with respectable palates who thought it was the bee's knees.

January 19, 2010

And much as I would like to take credit for them, these are not all of my doing. I'd probably lie about that if there weren't people reading my blog who would (justifiably) point a finger.

You can't blame a slow knitter for trying.

Anyway. Quite some time ago I was drawn into a knitting project with various blogless types. My good friend, Blogless Heidi, and I were given some yarn to knit scarves for our mutual good friends, Blogless Don and Blogless Brad. Said scarves were completed (oh, did I mention that I was the first one done? Yup--I won that race) (not that there was a race) (but if there'd been a race I'd've won) and delivered and much appreciated. And now, modeling their commissioned handwork, I give you:

Blogless Don, in the scarf I made!

And in the scarf Heidi made!

Blogless Brad in the scarf I made!

And in the scarf Heidi made!

And that's not even all! One of the Christmas presents I couldn't show on this blog because the recipient reads it? Was for Blogless Don:

Let's face it--nothing warms a knitter's heart more than seeing their handknit items actually being used.

OK. So. I took credit for the things I made. I didn't take credit for the things Blogless Heidi made, although I would have liked to. But.

This. This, I really really really wish I could take credit for. But I must give credit where credit is due, and that's to Blogless Don's (Presumably) Blogless Mom.

January 15, 2010

If you read and/or saw the movie Julie & Julia, you might remember Judith Jones. She's the one who took Julia's manuscript of Mastering the Art of French Cooking home and tried the Boeuf Bourguignon, liked it, and persuaded Knopf to publish the book. (Later, she was the one Julie got all excited about having for dinner, but then it rained, and Judith didn't make it.) (Is this confusing, talking about Julie, Julia, and Judith?)

So, yes, Judith Jones is legendary for having helped Julia Child reach her audience. But did you know: that's not all Judith Jones did? Not even close. In fact, she was the one who pulled Anne Frank's diaries out of the rejection pile--the rejection pile, people!--took them home, read them overnight, and persuaded her boss to reconsider.

Think about that.

Also? She was the editor who offered Sylvia Plath her first book contract.

So. Big stuff, Judith Jones.

And I am proud--sort of--to report a personal encounter with the legendary Mrs. Jones.

Back when I worked for Lynne Rossetto Kasper, one of my tasks was to help set up the interviews for the various guests. One week, Judith Jones was to be a guest, and I had a phone number from the publicist for her book, so I dialed the number.

This was Judith Jones! THE Judith Jones! I was used to getting secretaries and assistants and voicemail and PR people. But no! This was Judith Jones! Who would have thought she'd answer her own phone? I mean, geez, what the hell was she doing, answering her own damn phone? There should have been at least six or seven degrees of separation between someone like her and someone like me!

How could I be expected to talk to Judith Jones?? But somehow, I would have to, because Lynne needed me to set up the interview.

So I opened my mouth, and this is what came out: "Ahhhh....errrrrr.....hemmmm....if....yes....time....blrrrrr.....grz..."

Eventually I pulled myself together and accomplished my task. But to this day, I have a terrible picture in my head of Lynne calling Judith for the interview, and Judith saying, "Lynne, for all I know, your assistant is fully competent, but on the phone, she comes across as a blithering idiot."

This story came back to me in all its glory and pain when I was perusing Ms. Jones' latest book, The Pleasures of Cooking For One. Now, you might wonder why, when the Knit Think household is made up of four people (and two dogs, who like it when we drop human food on the floor, which happens frighteningly often), I would want a book about cooking for one. Well, duh--it was Judith Jones. But beyond that, eventually (sob) we'll be empty nesters, and many of the recipes would easily adapt to two. In fact, most involve cooking more than one serving, then re-creating the dish as something else the next day.

It's a lovely book. Very calm, very reassuring. And emotionally involving--she talks about how, after her husband died, she didn't think she wanted to cook anymore. But then she eventually realized she missed the pleasure of cooking, and the joy of eating what she'd created. What she's come up with is a book of simple yet elegant meals, most of which can be prepared quickly and easily, most of which don't need a laundry list of ingredients, most of which can be played with and adapted to what's on hand or in season.

Case in point.

A simple pasta dish. Note: the recipe follows. If you are smart--as I was not--you'd prep the ingredients ahead of time, instead of scrambling to chop and dice while things are cooking. Apparently I still have some of that blithering idiot gene functioning within me.

Shallots, garlic, olives, tuna, plum tomatoes, olive oil, white wine, a bit of parsley. Yes, I know it's not all pictured there. Also? The tuna? Should be really good quality, and preferably imported from Italy and canned in olive oil. It does make a difference. Really.

So you slice the shallots and saute them in olive oil. The olive oil from the bottle, not from the tuna can. In case you're a blithering idiot too.

When they're limp--like the Bizkit--add some sliced garlic and chopped tomatoes. Cook a bit, then splash in some wine. See? Isn't this fun? Any time you get to splash wine, you're going to have fun. Dump that expensive tuna in, and add the olives. You should be cooking your pasta at the same time, and now you can add a bit of the pasta water too. When the pasta is done, drain and toss into the pan with the sauce. Sprinkle with parsley.

Serve. With more wine. Don't splash this time. Eat. Lick your bowl. Wish you'd made more, or that no one else showed up for dinner.

My thanks to Knopf for sending me a review copy of this book, in spite of my being a blithering idiot.

Bring a large pot of water with a tablespoon of salt to a boil. When it is boiling vigorously, drop in the pasta and stir it around.

Heat the oil in a medium skillet, and sauté the onion or shallot 3-4 minutes, until limp. Add the garlic slices and tomatoes and sauté another minute. Splash in the wine and cook down. Break up the tuna, and drop chunky flakes into the pan. Stir in the olives. Add at least ¼ cup of the pasta water to thin the sauce. When the pasta is done al dente (taste to be sure), transfer it to the pan with the sauce, and stir it around, cooking the two together a minute. Add salt if needed, and more pasta water if the sauce is too dry. Spoon the pasta and sauce into a warm shallow bowl, and scatter parsley on top.

January 11, 2010

January 08, 2010

First off, thanks for all the great suggestions for gifts for my brother and his soon-to-be-bride! So many choices, so many ideas, what to do...but y'all will hear plenty of that in the months to come. Who knows, maybe I'll chicken out and order them a personalized set of these.

Cooking has been decidedly off this week due some refrigerator issues, but to tide you over, find out what your astrological sign has to do with what you should eat this week.

January 04, 2010

The holidays are done, the decorations packed away, the naughty foods either eaten or disposed of. And so I settled in, not for a long winter's nap, but to get back to my own selfish knitting, having tried my patience with so much giving away of things I really wanted to keep.

However, DH has been waiting patiently for a long time. Three years ago, I gave him a box full of yarn and promised him a sweater. The yarn has since moved from the box into a bag and a gauge swatch was knit. Thus endeth the progress on the sweater.

Given that it's been three years, and given that we celebrated our 20th wedding anniversary last month, it does seem time to crack out that there sweater yarn and git goin'. I've never done a sweater, but hey, I've got to try sometime, right? No time like the present.

That was my happy plan for the time after Christmas. Well, as soon as I finished that pesky second Monkey sock. Said sock is well on its way to completion.

Then yesterday, my older brother (actually, only brother, but still--important to note that he's older, yes?) called with some exciting news: he and his GF got engaged this weekend and are going to be married in September!

This is quite exciting. His GF is a lovely woman and the potential for a nice long happy marriage is high.

So of course I start thinking about knitting. After all, they've both been married before, have adult children, etc., so as far as household items, they've got 'em. Really, then, a lovely handknit something-or-other would be in order.

But what?

Let's recap: I'm way overdue to make DH his long-ago-promised sweater.

I'm a very slow knitter who, at this moment, has some tender tendons that need coddling.

I have a short attention span.

What shall I knit them? I'm not even thinking I'll make it by September, but as a "your first Christmas together" gift.

Thoughts? Ideas? Patterns?

This is my only sibling, you understand, and I'm rather fond of him. The same sibling who had a massive stroke less than two years ago. Celebratory is definitely in order.